Page 1 of One Weekend in Vienna

1

MAX

Idon’t want to be here.The thought creeps insidiously through all of the positive mindset junk I’ve been practicing for months, the words playing through my mind as soft and persistent as the snow falling outside the car window.

I want to be back on my home ice, not in Austria looking out at skaters winding their way around the skating paths, some zooming along, others meandering hand-in-hand as the car glides to a stop in front of a building that looks more like a palace than a hotel.

This certainly isn’t Vegas, and it sure as hell isn’t California, where I grew up. I step out of the car and breathe in the brisk air. Vienna even smells different, like snow and pine trees.

Ryan, Titanium’s manager, told me to think of this as a quick break. In and out for a long weekend while there’s an opening in our schedule. Some break. I’ve been dragged halfway across the world for a sponsorship deal I couldn’t care less about.

I know I should, but people have been judging me my whole life based on how I look, where I’m from, who my father is. The only stick people should judge me by is my hockey stick. But it doesn’t matter what I think. Ryan, my agent and the NHL think this opportunity is too good to pass up. So here I am, getting ready to turn on the charm, and rely on the fact that I won some genetic lottery instead of on the blood, sweat and tears I pour onto the ice every time I strap on my skates.

This weekend won’t be easy though. Oh, the posing and the smiling will be easy enough – and let’s face it: puck bunnies aren’t exclusive to rinks. The hard part will be ignoring the fact thatshe’shere.

I roll my head, loosening up the tight muscles in my neck. We played in Boston last night, and then I caught a red-eye to Montreal almost missing my connecting flight to Vienna and this “opportunity” my agent accepted before he even spoke to me.

Fuck. I’m at the prime of my career. We could have a shot at the Cup this year with Lebuchen and Gerrard as additions and my agent thinks I need to worry about sponsorship deals and preserving space for me once my career is over? I don’t need to think about that shit for another five years at least.

I’m the best.

Unless I get injured. A breeze blows the snow down the back of my neck, and I tighten my scarf, smiling at the doorman.Positive thoughts.The scent of ginger and cinnamon brushes over me as I enter the lobby.

Holy shit, this is incredible.

I blink at the opulent decorations. I mean, Vegas does Christmas big too, and those displays are incredible, but the quiet elegance, the sense of tradition, cloaks the entire hotel.

I feel like I stepped into a fairytale.

Vienna is beautiful, like a Christmas movie come to life, but as pretty as the decorations are, I’m not in the mood for Christmas.

I’m not in the mood for anything other than getting this done, getting some sleep, and getting back on the ice.

I can hold it together for one weekend.Positive thoughts.

She probably doesn’t even remember me.

“Guten Tag,Mr. Walker,” the clerk at the desk smiles as he hands me back my passport with a room key. “Your bags will be taken to your room, and your party has been advised that you have arrived. Someone is on their way down to greet you now.”

My chest tightens. I thought that maybe with my flight being a little late, I could avoid this part. I’m here so they can dress me up and take my picture, I don’t need the whole wine and dine aspect of this deal. I don’t need?—

The sharp sound of stilettos on marble cuts through the ambient noise and my heart speeds up. There’s a chance it’s someone else. Some no-nonsense businesswoman named Brunhilda who will talk down to the dumb hockey player, secretly check out my ass during the photoshoot, and this weekend will be over before I know it.

Maybe I’ll even get a chance to break out my skates on that rink I spotted outside.

“Mr. Walker?” That voice sends a chill down my spine. It sounds like a sharp blade across ice. Like the buzzer after a win.

Too bad I can’t enjoy it.

I paint a lazy smile on my face and turn, taking in the stunning woman before me. Just like that night two years ago, I’m struck by her beauty. Her blonde hair is swept back in some fancy coil and her eyes are the color of my favorite scotch. A bright golden I could drown in. Get drunk on.

Anna Jäger.

The one woman who is completely off limits to me, given my history with her brother.

Felix Jäger – my biggest rival on the ice and the man whose made it his life mission to ruin me, both in and out of the rink.

“Anna,” I say, fighting to keep my gaze from drifting over her. Just my fucking luck that this woman who made me feel something…different, is the one I definitely can’t have.

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